Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZV9WSAFGZTZC937TBB1W6N

Molly spread the blueprints across the kitchen table, anchoring the corners with half-empty soda cans. The crayon drawing depicted a suburban living room, a bouncy castle, and what appeared to be a lopsided pony. "Security's tight," she said, tapping a stick figure labeled *Aunt Karen*. "She's got eyes in the back of her head, Bill. Literally. The kid drew them." Bill squinted. "What about the clown?" "Decoy. We use him." "I'm not working with Pickles again." "You'll work with whoever I say you'll work with." Bill crossed his arms. "Last time, Pickles ate the evidence. Actually ate it. Balloon animals and everything." "Focus," Molly snapped. "The presents are stacked here, by the piñata. We've got maybe eight minutes between cake and goodie bags." "And the birthday boy?" "Turning seven. Name's Tyler. Allergic to peanuts and, according to our inside source, emotionally fragile." "Your source being?" "His babysitter. She's cut for fifteen percent." Bill whistled. "Steep." "She's the one who got us the gift list. Two drones, a Nintendo, and something called a Bluey." "What's a Bluey?" Molly shrugged. "Don't care. If it's wrapped, it's ours."